


Of Red Beanies And Old Gloves

by SprungSick



Series: Species: M. putorius [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Completely inspired by RaccoonInnit, Except twisted a bit, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Gen, Hybrid TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), It's fluffy it's soft and I am lowkey delirious, It's night time my decision making is piss poor, Kinda, Lmao we vibing, More like Found Family, Not Beta Read, SBI Chaotic Quartet time, Self-Indulgent, This is absolutely just me trying to break a writer's rut, TommyInnit-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Uhm uh uhm uh, have fun :), just so much fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:33:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28310934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SprungSick/pseuds/SprungSick
Summary: Tommy was a hybrid. He had been all his life. Somehow, he managed to not expose himself at every turn.Of course, the universe decided to be a vindictive bitch.
Relationships: Haha screw that and screw anyone who thinks thats okay, No Romantic Relationship(s), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: Species: M. putorius [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2087322
Comments: 117
Kudos: 1986
Collections: Purrsonal Picks





	Of Red Beanies And Old Gloves

**Author's Note:**

> No TWs! This is really just a bunch of fluff as I try to not absolutely suffer. Uh,,, enjoy-
> 
> Happy holidays lads! This isn't holiday-centric but it's real snowy so

Tommy stared at Techno, shifted once, and prepared for the inevitability of fucking shit up. 

“What the fuck do you mean, ‘you want to go to L’Manburg’ - Tommy, I haven’t stocked up since the last time-” 

“I know,” Tommy whined, forcing himself to not focus on the hand Techno brought up to rub at his temple. “But I don’t care. I say we go, now. If we hustle we can get there by sundown.” 

Techno huffed and swung his axe forcefully. “Why?” 

“Why not?”

For a short second, Techno looked ready to throw all his items into the snow and tackle Tommy into oblivion. The thought sent a pleasant thrill through the back of his neck. To his dismay, Techno reeled himself in and sighed - the man had gotten better at not resorting to violence when confronted with a crossroad. 

“There are so many reasons why not,” Techno replied finally. 

“List them for me.” 

“You just-” Excitement coursed through him at the sound of aggravation- “Tommy, are you serious?” 

“Yes!” He donned an obnoxious grin and hoped Techno would take the bait. 

“No.” 

Techno refused to respond any farther, instead turning back to his tree and swinging again. Reluctantly, Tommy adjusted his beanie and did the same. An easy silence fell between them; only the biting wind, screaming trees, and crunching snow tried to make themselves known. 

As they worked, Tommy willed away the furious thrumming underneath his skin. 

*** 

Tommy didn’t do well being bored. 

He repeated that thought like a mantra as he desperately ripped through the snowy tundra. 

Truly, he didn’t mean to fuck shit up. He had fully intended on acting like a sensible human being for the day - meaning, staying calm in Techno’s house while Techno helped Phil create a more permanent home for himself. The idea of acting sensibly had been repeated so strongly that he even scratched it into the basement walls. 

Techno didn’t like that. Techno was, however, boring as fuck, so he disregarded his opinion. 

His plan had been going reasonably well in the morning - he managed to make it through breakfast without too much of a fuss. But his three other roommates - or whatever they could be called, he didn’t think there was a definition for their brand of housing - took his low-energy as an opportunity to be even calmer than they normally acted. 

The quiet got to him. Or, more accurately, the desperate crawling just below his nerves got to him. 

Obviously, he did the only thing he could - he snuck onto the building site, snagged the pickaxe Techno had carelessly set aside, and ran like hell. 

“Tommy!” A voice yelled, the distance muffling the sound ever so slightly. He grinned and pushed himself faster, the cold sinking further into the soles of his boots. 

Honestly, he didn’t have a goal in mind. With his only destination the pale sun well above the horizon, he ran and tried to divert his energy - the entire point was to get it out of his system, to make it fade through his skin and leave him less itchingly uncomfortable. 

“Tommy!” 

The sound came louder this time, accompanied by two pairs of crunching steps. He continued to run. Idly, he wondered when he would feel the excitement needed to finally calm down. 

Abruptly, Ghostbur appeared in his vision. The unassuming yellow of his unfairly soft sweater did little to quell his shriek. For the most part, Ghostbur just looked confused. 

“Tommy, why are you being chased-” Ghostbur began, translucent hands raising for no discernable reason. Tommy didn’t wait to hear the end of the sentence, instead turning and sprinting blindly to his left. 

“Tommy-” 

The snow underneath his feet gave way. Instead of sinking a couple of inches before hitting the ground, he felt the weightlessness that accompanied falling.

As snow swarmed his vision and engulfed him completely, he wished for any kind of foresight. 

It took a few seconds of unending cold before he finally stopped falling. All around him the snow pressed in - he quickly shuffled to lay on his back, the sky poking in from the hole left by his body. Disconcertingly, he could already feel his gloved fingers going numb. 

Ghostbur peered down at him. He wondered how such a deep pile of snow even happened. 

For the fall to be so far, there had to be a drastically sharp incline - he cursed himself for his lack of knowledge of the land. Reasonably, the only landform that could both cause such an incline and blend into the flat land would be a pond. A pond that must have frozen over, letting the snow pile on. 

Shit. He needed to get out, fast. 

His heart stuttered loudly in his chest, the unknown distance between him and frozen water causing every fiber of his being to freeze. Slowly, he repositioned to be facing the direction he fell in, stomach chilling at an alarming speed. 

He had to dig himself out. A faint grin spread across his face. 

The chill did little to stop his already unfeeling fingers - he heaved and manipulated it with startling speed. Something deeply innate purred at the action, satisfaction joining every handful of snow. He pushed down the feeling with a brisk pull at his hat. 

Thankfully, his shoveling was working. He could make out the details of Ghostbur’s washed-out face. 

“I think you should stay still!” Ghostbur shouted, hands cupping around his mouth. “I don’t want you to bury yourself trying to get out! Phil and Techno will know what to do, just wait for them!” 

“It’s fine!” He called out dismissively. As he spoke, he managed to scramble a few inches higher. 

“It doesn’t look fine down there!” 

“Well, it is! Don’t worry about it Big G!” 

A part of him wanted to take off his gloves, to use his bare hands to dig himself out. He pointedly ignored it and readjusted his hat. 

“What the fuck.” 

Tommy looked up just in time to see Phil’s incredulous face. With a mock salute, he refocused on his battle against the ever-shifting snow. 

“Mate, how the fuck did you- never mind, grab my hand-” 

Phil’s gloved hand blocked his only exit. He considered ignoring it completely - maybe he could dig for a distance and catch them all by surprise. If he did, it might be enough for him to sleep soundly for that night. 

The chill on his arms began to burn. He pulled himself up a few more inches and grabbed Phil’s hand. 

“Holy shit- oh my fuck, I forgot you’re strong,” Tommy shrieked, entirely unprepared to be yanked up so forcefully. Phil used his firm grip to pull him standing and into safety. He took a few hesitant steps back once his hand was released. 

“It’s not that hard to pull you up-” Phil began to swipe at his shoulders and arms- “Jeez mate, I freeze just looking at you. Let’s get you in front of a fire before I remind you to not go running into the wilderness with stolen shit.” 

“My stolen shit,” Techno added. He whipped around to see Techno a few feet away, arms crossed in annoyance. 

“Stolen shit, not stolen shit.” Tommy shuffled a hand through his hair, snow falling away from the strands. “If I’m holding it, it’s mine, so. This pickaxe is my pickaxe.”

“Give me my pickaxe back or I’ll lock you out.” 

Thoughtlessly, he dipped his hand under his hat and scratched, his other reaching over his back to grab at the pick. “Oh, so scary. You think you can lock me out? I’m a fucking god at stealing shit, you can’t do shit against my wrath-” 

Waving the pick side to side, he nearly didn’t notice the silence. 

“Uh-” 

He quickly glanced around, taking in his friend’s frozen solid forms. Suddenly, he realized how the frigid air hit his ears. 

His triangular, very furred ears. 

Fuck. 

*** 

For the first time in a while, he felt like sitting quietly until nightfall. 

He didn’t exactly want to explain himself, especially to the three dumb-struck people he considered his companions. A part of him hoped they thought the same - none of them had spoken a word, instead choosing to settle him into one of the kitchen island’s seats before sitting opposite where they placed him. Not even Ghostbur - who he assumed would start asking questions the second people moved - spoke, his only communication the hesitant way he looked between Techno and Phil. 

Only the crackling of the fire and his own thudding heart met his ears. His beanie - which he had immediately repositioned just a second too late - became the only way for him to dispel the excess in his veins. 

“So-” Phil started. 

“We don’t have to talk about this!” Tommy slammed his hands onto the counter for emphasis, consciously ignoring the various noises of protest. “Let’s just ignore all this happened and go on with our days, yeah?”

At their stunned silence, Tommy considered bolting. Techno scoffed incredulously before he could do much more than swipe at his hands. 

“We can do that after we get a few things straight,” Techno replied sharply. Phil used the opportunity to grab his bicep to keep him from standing. 

“Like what?” 

Phil flickered between glancing at his beanie and glancing at Techno. “Mate, you’ve got ears growing out of your head.” 

He burst into laughter, the fingers gripping the counter his only support as he doubled over. The sheer incredulity of it all, the irony - it made him gasp for breath long after he should have calmed. A part of him clung to it in hopes of warding off the oncoming storm. 

“Everyone does, dumbass.” He leaned back in his seat, letting gravity take control of his life. The possible danger ironically helped him focus on Phil’s raised brows.

“Listen here, you little shit-” 

“So you’re a hybrid? Like Techno?” Ghostbur cut in. Tommy felt the least threatened by him - out of all of them, he seemed the most intent on just clearing the air. 

“I am.” Tommy blew out a breath and leaned back slightly farther. “Not like Techno and Ranboo, obviously. I’m a bit more in the twenty-five percent range than a full-on halfsie.”

“Ah.” Phil nodded to himself. His eyes stayed on the red beanie, mouth slightly parted as if wanting to ask something. It didn’t take a genius to deduce what. 

Hesitantly, Tommy complied to the unspoken request. 

He slid his beanie off in a choppy motion, subconsciously feeling at the furred appendages now poking through his hair. A part of him felt relief - the sudden clarity in his hearing reminded him of shedding layers of old skin - while the rest of him focused on the other’s reactions. 

Thankfully, the shock of the situation processed faster than he expected. Techno merely nodded slightly before slumping forward. Phil looked a bit relieved, the tension of his form easing. And Ghostbur- 

A melancholic cold pressed into his hair. 

He couldn’t control the edges of his lips. 

Ghostbur continued to run his fingers over his ears despite having to maneuver across the island - with one look at Ghostbur’s delighted smile, he knew he wouldn’t be free of the touch for a while. He shoved down the bubbling lightness of the contact. 

“So you’re part rat?” Techno asked, head barely visible in his periphery. He tried for a growl but failed. Having someone running their hand in his hair made his intimidation levels lower an embarrassing amount. 

“Ferret, dickhead,” He rumbled half-heartedly. Ghostbur opted to poke gently at the base of his left ear. Despite the chill, he felt his eyelids slowly droop and head fill with silk. 

“Ferret, that’s cool!” Ghostbur retracted his hand despite his inner protest. “They’re related to weasels, right?” 

Techno snorted. Tommy shot a quick glare in his direction. 

“I mean, they are, but I’m not a fucking-” 

“Tommy is a weasel. Makes sense.”

“I’m not a fucking Weasel, you piece of glorified bacon-” 

“Do you need any accommodations?” Ghostbur interrupted smoothly. Tommy focused on his curious gaze, forcing himself back into a more neutral position. 

“Huh?” 

“Accommodations.” Phil now spoke, his words measured and knowledgeable. “You know, like what we do with Techno? Is there anything we need to be made aware of or avoid?” 

He kept his face blank. As he did, memories of late-night lectures and hidden gold hordes swelled in his mind. 

Phil hurriedly continued. “Like. If you have any habits that come from your hybrid parts. It would be good for us to know them. Then, we can, like- I don’t know, respond appropriately. And it’s also important for us to know if you actually need something because of it. Like a specific diet or some shit.” 

Ah. Well.

He knew exactly what he needed.

If he were to be honest, he even knew the special scientific terms for his requirements - he quietly thanked past Tubbo before burying the thought into nothing - despite needing some thinking to properly remember it. Just living in his body made it impossible to avoid some of his quirks. 

Heat rushed into his face. He pulled his knees to his chest in an attempt to alleviate the embarrassment. 

Asking for what he truly wanted felt like just a bit too much. 

“I’m an omnivore, but I do better eating meat,” He started carefully. Philza motioned for him to continue as he went back to picking at the lacquered wood. 

“I’m a bit more flexible than the average person, which is pretty obvious. I have sharp nails - here, let me take off my gloves. You guys actually saw that when we first met. I think you just mistook them for like, regular alley nails. Which is hilarious, suck it. Uh-” 

His voice rose in pitch, now bare hands coming up to rub at his face. “I like to- I like to dig. That’s something I do, yeah. And-” 

He stopped himself, the words freezing in the air as his throat closed up. It became glaringly clear that his body would shut down before he spoke the truth. 

“That’s it.” 

The abrupt end to his explanation startled them all into confusion. He chuckled nervously, eyes trained on the cabinet just behind Techno’s head. 

“It sounded like you had something else to say,” Phil prodded gently. Instead of responding, he chose to shake his head. 

“Isn’t there something else? About ferrets?” Ghostbur mused; Tommy decided that Ghostbur knew too much about ferrets to be anything but a bastard. “They’re really playful and need to be engaged a lot, right? Like- you should always house a ferret with a friend to play with or else they would be really unhappy and bored.” 

Tommy froze. Looked away. Scratched the back of his neck as blood turned his skin tone to a pale cherry red. 

“Oh.” 

He had half a mind to obscure his vision with his hands - maybe then he could pretend to not see their thought processes so blatantly. His hands fidgeted with whatever they could; they ran across his scalp, across his clothes, across the hidden scratches on his shoulders from his own nails. In the corner of his eye, he noticed Phil’s face break into pity. 

Techno cleared his throat, the fur of his cape shifting as he moved. “So exile must have been-” 

“Really shit, yeah,” He tried for a grin and flashed his teeth. “I told you guys I don’t do well alone. Or bored, but- it’s not a super huge deal. Tubbo called it- he called it, like- a larger amount of external stimulation to be content and shit. Like, it’s not painful, but I definitely need more than the average person to not be restless.” 

“Oh. Is that why you’re so,” Phil trailed off, vaguely motioning towards him. He grimaced before nodding slightly. 

A heavy pause coated the air. He fidgeted in his seat, studying his blackened fingertips and slightly long nails - he made a quick note to clip them when he could. Just as the silence grew unbearable, he exhaled sharply and flung himself off his chair. 

“Well, this was fun,” He announced loudly, snatching his gloves and hat off the table. “But I’m tired. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, yeah?” 

Phil looked ready to protest. Blessedly, Ghostbur and Techno just said a light goodbye. He waved, descended into the basement, and let the comfort of his own underground shelter wash over him.

Just as he drifted off into slumber, he hoped to be rid of the buzzing in his chest. 

*** 

Surprisingly, Techno was the first to bring it up.

They were the only two left in the house - Ghostbur and Phil must have left early for a trip to the village - and Techno seemed to be in his own silent world. He quietly prepped the kettle for some golden apple tea, he quietly stared out the window, he quietly lounged. As Tommy tapped his cup in an attempt to remain inside his skin, he planned for ways to get out of the quiet and into something not mind-numbingly peaceful. 

He wished he could sit still. A part of him knew he could - if he just drained the pent-up energy inside of him, of course. 

When he parted his lips to rustle up a commotion - he hoped Techno understood that he had to, needed to - Techno finally broke the silence. 

“You got a tail?” Techno asked lightly, not bothering to glance away from the fire at his fingers. Tommy choked. 

“What the fuck- Techno, what the fuck is wrong with you?” 

Techno shrugged underneath his thick cape, unperturbed. “Just asking. I have one. Do you?” 

Tommy spluttered loudly as he struggled to comprehend. Techno simply continued to poke at the fire, his large ears flicking in tandem with its crackling. 

“I- I do.” He brought his knees up to his chest and burrowed deeper into the couch - to make himself smaller or to feel more comfortable, he didn’t entirely know. Techno slowly stood and settled into the couch opposite him. 

“You can take it out,” He said airily. “I’m not stopping you from showing it. You can take off your hat and gloves as well, actually.” 

“Uh, okay.”

Confused, Tommy pulled off his beanie and silently rejoiced in his better hearing. When Techno did nothing but pull out his planner, he pulled off his gloves as well. 

“Anything else you want to take off?” 

“Uh-” Tommy thoughtlessly patted himself down with a hand- “No I don’t think so. Except-” 

He grabbed a tissue before swiping it underneath his eyes - once the abrasive material scrubbed his skin, he quickly stood to wet it and try again. Hovering over the sink, he continued to rub circles underneath his eyes and at his temples. He ducked his head slightly when he sat back into his seat. 

“I’ve got these markings,” He elaborated, pointing to dark patternings now visible for all to see. “I don’t have a full mask like a proper hybrid- that would’ve been a bitch to conceal. But yeah, I usually just use this long-lasting powder that works like a charm.” 

Techno huffed and scribbled something down on his planner. “Cool. Well, you don’t have to use it while you intrude upon my living space.” 

Tommy nodded slightly, tapping his cup again to expel some of his energy. The entire situation just felt bizarre. 

After a few moments, he spoke. “Why?” 

“Hm?” 

“Why the fuck are you saying all of this? It doesn’t sound very Techno of you- I would have thought that you would be all, like, ‘my name is Technoblade and I don’t give a shit about anybody and-” 

Techno finally looked up, piercing stare all he needed to see to shut up. He exhaled quietly where his words should have gone. 

“If we ignore the fact that you literally broke into my home and coerced me into housing a fugitive,” Techno said pointedly. “I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable under my roof just because you’re a hybrid. I may be a killer, but I’m not a monster.” 

Despite the soft feeling bubbling in his chest, he hummed and cocked his head. “I don’t think that last one was true. Lying, Techno? Really?” 

Techno huffed, tensed himself, and wrote another thing down in his planner. He felt himself slightly shrink - the anticipated silence would do little to settle his nerves. Somewhat disheartened, he turned his focus back onto the fire. 

Techno slammed the planner shut and stood up. 

“What-” 

“You need more external stimuli, right?” 

“Uh, yeah?” Tommy replied, both uncertainty and excitement flooding his veins. 

“Let’s spar.” 

Tommy looked at the solid form in front of him - muscled arms, deft hands. Memories of past battles - he hurried past the images of the pit - warned him of the landslide loss that would occur if he even tried. Fonder memories - of Tubbo and fields and playful grappling sessions - ripped at the yawning hole placed inside his chest. 

He felt a grin stretch across his face. 

When he instinctively jumped up and barreled forward, he didn’t try to hide it. 

*** 

Philza came next. 

He and Techno had settled into a routine in the passing days - when one of them felt like it, they would yell a quick warning before tackling with all their might. Given the suddenness of the declaration, neither could truly gain an upper hand or plan ahead of time. It all boiled down to senseless, tiring grappling. 

Techno never failed to beat him, despite his initiations. He didn’t really care - he felt more whole than before his first exile. 

Apparently, the key to his happiness was grabbing a bitch. 

“How was your fight?” Phil asked lightly, eyes firmly on the whetstone in his hands as he lounged on the living room couch. Tommy groaned and shook some snow onto the floor. 

“Terrible.” He flopped next to the fire and stayed there. “He somehow managed to flip me! I didn’t even touch him before whoosh, I’m in the air. Like, what’s up with that?” 

Phil hummed from somewhere behind him. “Did you have fun?” 

“Of course not, he fucking flipped me.” 

For a moment, he paused to catch his breath. He felt so vitalized, so filled with light energy that washed over him in pleasant waves - yet that feeling didn’t extend to his physical form. Physically, he ached all over. 

Just as the numbness finally left his ears - an unfortunate consequence of not wearing his hat - Phil spoke up. 

“You want to actually sit down on the couch? The floor doesn’t look too comfortable.” 

Tommy thoughtlessly rolled over and jumped to his feet, the indulgence of his instincts sending a pleasant ting somewhere in the depths of his mind. He eyed the pruning scissors in Phil’s hands - he knew what the man could do with just a rusted spoon - before sitting down on the opposite end of the couch. Phil continued to sharpen, he continued to warm himself up; a small grin wormed onto his face when he realized how little discomfort came with the quiet. 

Phil finished sharpening his scissors. He set them down, paused for a moment, and brought a hand up to the back of his ears. 

“Damn, they’re pretty soft,” Phil mused gently, fingers carding through his hair in a firm, kneading fashion. Tommy could only hum in response. 

The familiarity of the gesture, the nostalgic tenderness that tainted its touch, left him unable to do much more than experience it in its entirety. Ribbons of warmth sunk deep underneath his skin, starting at his scalp and traveling down his spine. His eyelids lowered dangerously, his breathing evening out. 

“I’m surprised I never noticed them,” Phil continued. His words just barely cut through the layer of warmth. 

“Yeah?” 

As he heard the near-drunken intonation of his own words, he realized he was fucked. 

He didn’t remember being so soothed by just a simple touch - a part of him whispered of his past habits, but he quickly shut that down. If anyone he trusted chose to exploit this vulnerability, he knew he wouldn’t be able to defend himself. 

Despite the dark connotations of the thought, he chose to focus on the fingers in his hair and steady presence at his side. 

“Oh yeah, I really didn’t notice-” Phil’s voice startled him back into the present- “Even when you first attached to us. You were wearing the beanie, even then.” 

“I was, wasn’t I?” He laughed slightly at the memory, yellow tinting his vision. 

“You were. Didn’t even let me wash it, you fuck. Back then I thought your markings were just dirt. You were such a fucking gremlin- how did we ever let you into our lives?” 

He laughed, the reminiscing and warm fire lulling him into a state of drowsiness. Idly, he wondered when he last slept in front of another person. 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” 

The tone of Phil’s voice - no longer soft and smooth, now dangerously indifferent - doused ice over his warm insides. Phil’s gentle ministrations continued. They only clashed with the awareness tensing his skin. 

“About being a hybrid?” Tommy asked weakly. 

“Yup,” Phil responded, popping the p with disconcerting nonchalance. “I mean, I’m surprised you managed to even hide it for so long. You had such loose lips when you were younger - it’s a wonder you didn’t get yourself jailed.” 

“Oh, I did. Several times, actually.” He brought his knees to his chest. His lungs seemed confused as to whether they should stop working or match Phil’s fingers. 

Phil chuckled lightly. “Right, I forgot about that. Was that before or after you became a trash gremlin?” 

“Before I started dumpster diving, after I ran away to Erthe.” 

“Where you met us.” 

“Right.” 

“And where hybrids were tolerated and considered equal.” 

The unspoken accusation bit into his shoulders. Vaguely, he registered how his left foot bounced at a nonsensical pace. A part of him wanted to stop, but he realized he didn’t care enough to try. 

Phil continued to thread his fingers in his hair. For a split second, he wondered as to when Phil would pull it. 

“I mean yeah, hybrids were technically considered equal and shit-” He kept his eyes focused on the window straight ahead- “But I just- I don’t know. I spent my whole life hiding it, and I didn’t want to risk, like- getting shit for being weasel adjacent. It’s not a good look, you know?” 

“I get that. Techno does say shit occasionally,” Phil joked. Blowing out a breath, he forced his heart rate to slow. 

“What about after? When I housed you? Did me being allies with Techno not translate, or?” 

His eyes wandered over the white walls - he should stick some color on them, one day. “I mean, I knew you guys were fine with hybrids. I just- I don’t know. You all knew me as not a hybrid, and by then it had been so long that I couldn’t just be all like ‘hey fuckers suck it’ and not have shit hit the fan.” 

Slowly, the hand on his head stopped. Gently - with care so delicate he couldn’t compare it to anything in his memories - Phil rested his hand at the base of his neck. 

“I understand,” Phil murmured softly, kneading small circles where his neck joined his shoulders. “For the record, I wouldn’t have given two fucks whether or not you were fuzzy. Honestly, I’m just kind of annoyed that I wasn’t able to help you out sooner.” 

Tommy hummed in response. The all-too-tender feeling of safety draped over his joints, his eyelids. 

“Don’t be afraid to be a hybrid, okay?” 

With only the crackling fire in his ears and a gentle comfort in his hair, he drifted off into sleep. 

*** 

Ghostbur was the last to do anything related to his hybrid status. 

Although, technically, Tommy was the first to bring it up. 

“What are you doing?” 

Ghostbur looked up from his needles, dark blue yarn creating tangled patterns in the air. The wool yarn had been strewn across the couch - a couch that he had begun to suspect attracted bonding moments - so carelessly that he ached for a simpler time. Ghostbur looked up from his work and grinned. 

“I’m trying to learn how to knit,” He replied, gesturing at the patchwork of what could barely be considered a knitted scrap. “I think it would be a fun thing to learn! But, uh, it’s not going as well as I expected.” 

“No shit,” Tommy scoffed. Ghostbur merely hummed and turned back to his needles. 

The sudden, overwhelming urge to bury into Ghostbur’s side nearly swept him off his feet. 

“You alright?” 

Tommy shakily began to nod, an excuse on his lips - he had this happen before, he knew how to handle it - before pausing. The yearning to connect, to properly see and touch and talk with another person, gnawed deep into his chest. 

Logically, he didn’t have to hide it. That wasn’t- he couldn’t- 

Well. It couldn’t hurt to ask. 

“Do you mind if I, uh, hug you?” 

The words left him stuttered and half-formed, higher than his voice had gone in years. He didn’t know what outcome he wanted - rejection or acceptance. 

As he swiped at his arms and fidgeted with his sleeves, Ghostbur grinned. Lifted up an arm. 

“Sure! There’s more than enough room for the both of us.” 

Giddiness bubbled up his throat. 

Thoughtlessly, he jumped into the air, landed in a stutter step, and jumped again. The motion felt natural, expressive - so natural, in fact, that he didn’t understand why he didn’t do it more often. Ghostbur tilted his head, brows furrowed. 

He froze. Registered what he did. 

Before he could curl up and languish in a pile of his own shame, he hurried over to the couch and flopped onto it. With what little pride he had left thrown into the wind, he curled his arms around Ghostbur’s torso and buried his head into his side. 

Ghostbur was cold, annoyingly so - yet the softness of his sweater and steady presence kept him from complaining. He felt himself sink further into the touch, pressing deeper until he could just barely breathe through his nose. Warmth melted into his skin. 

His entire body felt so light. So peaceful. 

For once, he wasn’t bothered by the quiet. 

“Is this one of your hybrid things?” Ghostbur asked, arm maneuvering over his shoulders to get back to knitting. Tommy grumbled into his sweater. 

“I don’t know, it just felt like it,” Ghostbur began to move around him, his arm ever so slightly brushing with each motion. “I heard that ferrets like to be cuddly. They’re very affectionate, apparently, when they’ve bonded with their people.” 

He curled his knees into his chest, increasing the area of contact between him and Ghosbur. Each of his thoughts dripped with cotton. Belatedly, he realized that he didn’t exactly hate the feeling. 

“Oh! Just so you know- you can hug me whenever you want. I know that you need it and stuff. Besides, I think it’s pretty cute.” 

He used his forehead to show his disdain. “You talk about this and I’ll burn your yarn.” 

“Okay.” 

Laying there - with his skin pleasantly cold and his eyelids closing with a vengeance - he didn’t need to force himself still. He didn’t need to expel any buzzing from his system, or ants from his skin. He didn’t need to do anything more than keep his arms around Ghostbur and hat off his head. 

With his ears bare to the world, he felt completely, utterly content.

**Author's Note:**

> Mmmm mmm I just think Tommy would be better suited as a ferret, not a raccoon 
> 
> Like raccoons are little gremlins but do they have a funky war dance?? I think tf not 
> 
> Anyways, thank you so much for reading to the end! I'm really sorry about the quality, I just genuinely needed to do something to help myself get back in the groove, you know?


End file.
